Question

Vesuvius was the first volcano I climbed. My father, an RAF wing commander, was posted to Naples, Italy, when I was 13 and we lived in its shadow. The devastated landscape of the upper slopes was like nowhere I’d ever been, lacking in vegetation; it felt as if I was on the surface of the moon. At the summit, I stared into the vast crater with a mixture of awe and elation, imagining it on fire, bubbling with magma (molten rock). That kicked off an enduring fascination with volcanoes – even now I try to spend a month a year visiting new ones. There’s something about being in their presence that I find hugely life-affirming, a contrast to my deskbound job as a business consultant.
My volcano-chasing has taken me to Easter Island, Guatemala, Chile, Bolivia and Costa Rica, which regularly falls prey to eruptions and earthquakes – by the time I’d stared at the green acid lake inside the crater of Irazú and the bubbling mass at the heart of Poás, I was ready to face my ultimate challenge.
As I set off early from the base camp town Fortuna, I did begin to feel a little daunted, particularly when I saw the lower slopes where evidence of its destructive effects were all around me. In the middle of an ash-strewn field stood a single house, a lone survivor, still occupied. The mountain was scarred by a black river of boulders up to two storeys high that had smashed through the vegetation a decade earlier.

I was taking all of this in when I heard thunder – or, rather, felt it. The ground trembled, which was a singularly unnerving sensation. I knew Arenal could produce lava that flowed downhill faster than a speeding car, and that I’d be a dead man if that happened.

It’s also likely to spit out rocks at varying speeds, like suitcases coming off a conveyor belt – I’d witnessed that the night before when, gazing up from the relative safety of my hotel, I’d watched red-hot rocks emerge one at a time. The volcano growled again. I was tempted to climb higher, but beyond the tree line were so many dangers. Heat and altitude sickness, bursts of volcanic vapour, poisonous gases, avalanches – any of these could finish me off. Even the most insignificant eruption could result in large rocks falling at speed.

I knew I was in danger; all my senses were screaming at me to retreat, but I couldn’t help staying a little longer. Part of the attraction is being able to watch how these strange landscapes can change within minutes. Even though I felt scared, I also felt vibrantly alive, in awe of what I was seeing. Finally heading for home, I glanced back as the great black cone of Arenal glowered at me, releasing another rumble.

My partner and children know I always take care during my expeditions and they have no real fears for my safety. The following year, wanting to share the wonder I’d felt, I returned to Arenal and took them with me. While we were on its slopes, the volcano issued a series of ferocious rumbles that terrified my teenage daughter. She now considers that moment a formative experience, one she’ll never forget. I’d like to think the strong interest she’s developed in geology was partly inspired by that day.

I’m no thrill-seeker, and don’t have a death wish – the idea of storm-chasing or riding giant waves holds no appeal for me. At the core of my interest is the urge to witness the extraordinary, to build up layers of experience I can draw upon later. Then, at work, in the middle of annoying projects, I can think to myself, ‘Yes, that’s what it’s all about, really.’​

Answer 1

Answer:

Oh wow u climbed a volcano .